


Sugar? Yes, please.

by grootmorning



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Deaf Clint, Disfigured Bucky, F/M, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Natasha is also worried that Clint is lonely, Peggy is in this because it's an AU everybody lives, Steve is just worried that Bucky is lonely, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 05:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grootmorning/pseuds/grootmorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cafe!AU. Clint started out his day with a big pot of coffee and ended it with a fake boyfriend. Wait, what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How They Met

**Author's Note:**

> I have a mighty weakness for cafe AUs, Bucky in a leather jacket and Clint making coffee.

Clint was pretty sure all the caffeine he had consumed earlier was leaving his body. He wasn't sure how - since he had sucked down an entire pot of coffee before the start of his shift - but he could literally feel the caffeine leaving his system.

"Nat," he whined, pawing a little at her back. "I'm dying."

"I don't care," Natasha replied as she frothed the milk for an order with a steam wand.

"Why not?" He tugged at her sleeve a little, maybe if he whined a little bit more, she would give him a cup.

"Keep bugging me, Barton, and I'll be steaming more than milk, I'll shove your face in here." 

A lesser person would have run screaming, but Clint had known Natasha for years and he was man enough to admit that she only scared him a little rather than the whole lot back when he first got to know her. "If you shove my face in there, will I get coffee?"

She huffed and snapped a towel at him. "You're a goddamn barista, make your own coffee."

That was a statement he couldn't find any fault with and there were hardly any customers in at the moment, so he shrugged and stepped up next to her, pressing the button to grind the coffee beans for a much needed hit. Blinking tiredly around the cafe, Clint mentally counted the number of customers in 'The Hideout'. Lesser than normal, not that he was complaining. Before he knew it, his beloved coffee was done and he sighed contentedly as he watched it cool to a drinkable temperature. Clint mentally gave thanks to whoever was in heaven, even as he lifted the pot and gulped the coffee down.

"You are the worst person to ever work in the service industry," Natasha looked on with a mildly amused and disgusted look on her face.

Clint had to agree.

The small bell hung near the front door dinged merrily and they both looked up. 

The man arguing on the phone had paused just inside the cafe, his free hand running through his dark hair that was just long enough to give him a slightly messy and wild look. Something about the conversation must have annoyed him and he scrunched up his face, rubbing a frustrated hand across the 5 o'clock shadow that had just begun to show on his chin.

He looked up at the board over the counter before moving closer. 

Clint tried to sidle away to the back room but Natasha hip checked him before he even took a step, knocking him towards the register. He hissed at her but she simply smiled at him. "He's exactly your type," she whispered conspiratorially, before winking.

There was nothing to do but stand at the register and smile as he tried not to check the customer out too blatantly. 

A well worn leather jacket that fit nicely on broad shoulders, a pair of jeans that looked plain but fit nicely and didn't look too threadbare which meant expensive and a pair of combat boots that were currently kicking the counter Clint was standing behind. He wasn't half bad looking either.

It was at this point that Clint actually focused on the conversation the man was having.

" - don't need a date, Steve! It's just a party, at our apartment. It's my place, why do I need a date?" The man paused for a reply before dramatically rolling his eyes. "Because everyone else is going to bring one is not a good reason." He paused again prior to sighing heavily. "Stevie, I don't need a date okay? I - I have a boyfriend." Silence again. "He's not imaginary, he's real, thank you very much. And his name is, er - " His eyes snapped up, finding Clint's name tag. "Clint."

_What?_

"Um," Clint tried, baffled beyond coherent words. "What?"

The man held a hand up as he argued further. "Steve, me telling you I have a boyfriend is me not having to bring a date to the party. No, I'm not going to bring Clint to the party! Steve!" The hand holding the phone dropped and the man looked up at Clint resignedly, before the full force of what he had just said seemed to hit him. 

Clint took a step back as the man dropped his head onto the counter, covering his head with both arms. Looking around in a panic, he found Natasha muffling her laughter in a tea towel and he flipped her off.  _That's disgusting_ , he mouthed and she waved him off, smothering another bout of laughter.

The man had finally seemed to pull himself together and he straightened up, eyeing Clint speculatively. 

Silence.

"So, would you like to order something or - " Clint mumbled at the same time the man said, "Would you like to go to a party with me?"

 "What?" Clint repeated for the third time today. He wasn't the most eloquent on a good day. Today was weighing in on the side of bad.

"You heard the conversation I just had," the man held out his phone pitifully. "I have to bring my 'boyfriend' - " he actually used finger quotations here, it was kinda cute really, Clint thought, " - or he's going to bring ten dates for me."

"But I'm not your boyfriend?" Clint offered.

'You could be," the man replied eagerly. "Just for a night, I swear, I'm not a creep. My name is Bucky, let me buy you a cup of coffee and we can talk about it."

Clint stared at him before pointing to his apron. "I work here, I'm basically surrounded by coffee on a daily basis."

Bucky's face fell.

Natasha finally made her way out from the back room. She took one look at the two of them and crossed her arms, "Wow, this relationship is starting out great already."

Clint face palmed. This was not the way he had expected his day to go.


	2. How They Fake-Dated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's not that easy. It'll take more than a cup of coffee to agree to be someone's fake boyfriend. Natasha is of a very different opinion.

"One cup. Please," Bucky pleaded. "I'm begging you. You don't know the half of it if I show up tonight without my fake boyfriend."

Clint looked around helplessly at Natasha, who very kindly shoved him away from the counter towards the seats and started serving the small queue that had formed during their little exchange. Bucky mirrored his actions, meeting him at the edge of the counter, his hands twisting nervously. Clint looked around hopefully towards the back of the cafe but a kick in the thigh from Natasha had him glaring back at her. She was still serving the customers cheerfully, but her boots were poised for another kick. He had been on the receiving end of enough kicks to be sufficiently afraid so he grudgingly made his way towards the seating area. Took his time though, just cause he was annoying like that.

He plopped into a seat at the back of the cafe, gesturing carelessly for Bucky to sit as well. Look at him, calling the new guy Bucky already like they were best friends. Clint smacked himself mentally. This was not what he had wanted to get into when he woke up this morning.

Bucky had started over before he turned, pausing confusedly as Natasha shoved something into his free hand. Shrugging, he made his way over to Clint, setting down his coffee cup. The brown paper bag, he placed in front of Clint.

"What's this?"

"She um - the girl gave it to me. Asked me to make you eat because you apparently turn into a grumpy old man when your blood sugar level gets low. And she says it occurs with low caffeine intake as well, but you turned down that offer," Bucky offered a small smile.

Food was food, Clint took the sugared croissant out and broke it in half before chewing on it.

An awkward silence ensued as Bucky took small sips of his coffee. Clint was mentally guessing the drinks Natasha was making by watching her use the steamer and other ingredients. He was in the middle of deciding if the lady in green was ordering a latte or a flat white when Bucky waved a hand in front of his face.

"What?"

"Sorry," Bucky dropped the hand. "I've been trying to get your attention for the past ten seconds."

"Well, you got it."

"And?" Bucky waited expectantly, his expression ever so hopeful.

Clint refused to give him the satisfaction of saying yes. One, because he was mortified that Bucky was exactly his type and if it was any other situation, he would honestly be climbing him like a tree right now. Two, he could be a right bastard when he wanted to be. "What?"

Dragging his right hand over his face, Bucky took a deep breath before offering it. 'Hello, I'm Bucky Barnes. I'm thirty this year and I work in a security firm, providing personal and or corporate security, depending on the situation. I have a party tonight to attend because my best friend just signed a deal to show his work at a gallery in some fancy-schmancy place; all my friends are coming and I have to bring my 'boyfriend'." He actually raised his hands to make air quotes and Clint literally felt his traitorous brain think,  _Aww cute._ "If I don't, I'll get chewed out for lying and trust me, you do not want to see Steve's disappointed eyes. A puppy dies every time he looks sad." _  
_

Clint snorted just a little bit and the corner of Bucky's mouth lifted into a small shy smile.

"Well," Clint jabbed a finger in the air as Bucky opened his mouth. Leaning forward to dust the sugar off his hands, he placed his hands flat on the table. "Wait, don't get too excited. I have some terms. No kissing, we can hold hands and we can hug but no kissing. We barely know each other and I'm an old fashioned chap. I'm not that easy."

There was a short burst of laughter from behind the counter and Bucky covered his mouth quickly, shoulders shaking. 

"Nat knows nothing!"

"Buy him three cups of coffee and see if he kisses you," she tosses back and Bucky continued smothering his laughter. Clint shrugged. That was just how they were. 

"Two - "

"I'm going to stop you right there," Bucky drummed his fingers on the table. Clint faintly registered that he was wearing a single leather glove on his left hand, maybe it was some new fashion that he wasn't in touch with; he never was anyway. "One party. That's all I'm asking for. We'll just hold hands, we won't even touch if you don't want to. Small talk and dinner usually lasts for an hour or two and then we'll make our escape. And I'll buy you dinner, a fancy dinner, not like at a diner or takeout, as my own thank you. Fair?"

"Ooh food, that will get you right into Barton's pants."

Clint seriously considered picking up the sugar pot on the table and chucking it at Natasha's head.

"If it helps," Bucky said slowly, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. "I think you're really cute."

Clint choked on air and thumped his own chest embarrassedly. He refused to make eye contact with Bucky and looked away, catching Natasha's eyes, who was both furiously gesturing for him to say yes and miming throttling him. He wasn't that easy, was he? He did hold out for awhile before even considering agreeing. Although, Bucky was the first guy in awhile to call him cute.

What the hell, Clint needed a new guy in his life.

A fake-boyfriend still kinda counts as a date, right?

"Fine," Clint conceded, watching as the relief washed over Bucky's face. "What time should I be ready?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. I got caught up with work. Don't worry, I didn't forget about this. Subscribe and comment? :)


	3. How They Fake-Went Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party? That meant free food right? Oh wait, Clint forgot that meant there would be people too.

"Why are you wearing those?" Clint demanded.

"It's a party," Natasha shrugged. "No reason why I shouldn't get dressed up." She turned a little in her black strappy heels, admiring how long they made her legs look.

"And why you put me in this outfit, I'll never know," Clint tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt, rolling his shoulders lightly.

Natasha slapped his hand away before smacking him lightly on his neck. "Stop it, you look nice in this. Roll up the sleeves, will you? Just up to your elbows. Besides, you think this Bucky guy is cute; no reason why you shouldn't dress up a little, impress him."

Complying, Clint rolled the sleeves deftly, shoving them where they wouldn't hinder his movement. He shuffled his feet a little, staring at the ground. "It's not like that."

"Sure it isn't," Natasha rolled her eyes, shifting her clutch to her other hand so she could put an arm around his shoulder. "It's okay to put yourself out there Clint, it's not going to be like before, y'know?"

Clint didn't know but he nodded dutifully anyway.

"So where's this boyfriend of yours anyway? Leaving us on the sidewalk for ten minutes, not a good start to this relationship."

"He's not my - "

"You have to start getting used to thinking that he's your boyfriend or you're going to blow this whole operation for him," Natasha tutted. "First rule of espionage, believe your own lie."

Clint ruffled her hair a little, "Nat, you're not a spy, you're a model and part-time barista. You're basically boring."

"Models act, kind of. It's the same thing."

Clint opened his mouth to continue the argument but the car pulling up to the sidewalk stopped him. The door opened and Bucky stepped out, in the same leather jacket but with a nice shirt underneath. He had to catch his breath because Natasha was right; Bucky was exactly his type. Just like - , he shook his head. That was behind him now.

"Hey," Bucky called out. "Sorry I'm late. Had to take a bit of time to figure out how to get the car started."

"Do you not know how to drive your own car?" Natasha was utterly bemused and jabbed Clint in the side with an elbow. He resented the insinuation; Clint wasn't utterly clueless all the time.

Bucky laughed sheepishly, opening the door for her as he did. Natasha gracefully swung her legs in, gesturing for him to help Clint into the car. "It's not mine, I ride a bike usually. But since I had to pick up two people, I borrowed Steve's car. It's his party tonight by the way."

Clint nodded at him as Bucky closed the door. "Sorry about dragging Natasha along tonight."

"It's no problem. The more the merrier. Besides, it wouldn't be out of the place for my new boyfriend to bring along a friend, to feel more comfortable at a party full of people he didn't know,' Bucky grinned easily, before starting the car. 

"Just so you know, I'm just doing this for the free dinner."

Bucky's smile grew wider and Clint's stomach flopped a little. He put a hand on it, hissed  _traitor_ internally.

"I didn't expect anything else."

-

Steve's place was at a loft, being a 'pompous artist' and all; Bucky's words, not Clint's. But he heard the unmistakeable pride and fondness in Bucky's words. It was technically half Bucky's place, but he had let Steve pick it out. He wasn't all that fussy about where he lived. Clint could understand, his own place and things were more for convenience rather than anything else.

"So give me the quick rundown on your friends, just to make sure I don't put my foot in my mouth."

Bucky pressed the elevator button for top floor and settled into a corner. "Steve's my best friend, known him since he was a kid and a scrawny little bastard. He's an artist who just got a deal for an exhibition at some Upper East Side gallery. The brunette who will be by his side most of the evening is Peggy. Girlfriend, kinda big in the entertainment scene cause she's a stuntwoman who doubles for pretty famous people." He thought for a bit. "Those are the two main people you'll have to know, I can introduce the rest as we get to them."

The elevator dinged merrily and Bucky shifted his weight, bouncing a little nervously. "Again, I'm sorry for dragging you into this. You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be for dinner at that super fancy place on Fifth Avenue," Clint stepped forward amidst Bucky's laughter. He took Bucky's right hand hesitantly, feeling his fingers twitch alongside his own. "Shall we?"

They strode out into the noise and the chaos, as all parties were, with Natasha right behind them. Bucky tugged gently, heading straight for the tall blond currently holding court right next to the drinks. 

Clint could literally feel the curious eyes on him but he kept his eyes on Bucky.  _Deep breaths_ , he told himself,  _just for show._

"Buck!" The blond - probably Steve, Clint surmised - clapped Bucky on the shoulder, grinning. The woman tucked under his arm stared steadily at Clint even as their partners exchanged pleasantries. 

"Won't you introduce us?" She asked, her British accent coming through and Clint blinked, surprised.

"Of course," Bucky tugged Clint forward just a little, sliding an arm around his waist easily. It was one of the forms of touching they had agreed on via text earlier. Hand holding, hand around the waist and/or shoulders and maybe a hug or two. "This is Clint, my boyfriend. See Stevie, I told you he wasn't made up." The crowd around them laughed and Clint broke into a smile. It was hard not to laugh along.

He shook Steve's hand firmly. "Nice to meet you." He shook Steve's girlfriend's, Peggy, hand as well, as they were introduced.

"Nice to meet  _you,"_ Steve insisted. "We're all so glad Bucky finally met someone he could get along with. Fella's like a porcupine, especially about the - "

He literally felt Bucky stiffen, just before Bucky turned to gesture towards Natasha. "This is Clint's best friend, Natasha. Thought he might like someone familiar at the party as well."

Natasha stepped forward smoothly to shake hands and exchange pleasantries.

"Hey, I know you," someone piped up. "Weren't you with Calvin Klein or something?"

Natasha's face lighted up, the way one did when somebody recognised your work. "Yes, I was. Thank you, for noticing."

"We have to get a picture or something - "

Bucky stepped back to Clint's side even as Natasha got swallowed easily into the conversation. She always did have a knack for blending in. "Sorry, they're a bit much," he murmured lowly into Clint's ear. 

Clint liked them and he told Bucky so. "They're interesting, and friendly. I don't - don't have many friends." Clint looked down and away from Bucky. Casting his gaze around the room, he settled into the welcoming atmosphere. 

Bucky coughed uncomfortably. "Well, you kinda have us now. We can still be friends."

"Oh, but darling, I thought we were more than that," Clint adopted a slow drawl and Bucky burst out laughing.

It took awhile, but the pair realised that the conversation had reached a lull and the group was watching them speculatively. Clint coughed and Bucky pushed his hair out of his face. Natasha was sporting that small smile she always had when she knew something Clint didn't, and he reminded himself to ask her after.

A man pushed his way to the front of the group, extended his hand to Clint. "I'm Sam, it's nice to meet you."

Clint took his hand, echoing his own sentiments. 

"Sam's a counsellor, down at the VA," Bucky shifted uncomfortably. "He's one of Steve's closest friends."

"Well, other than you of course," Sam poked Bucky in the chest playfully but Clint didn't miss how Bucky had tensed up the minute Sam had even come close.

Casting his mind around for something to do, he dragged Natasha into the fray. "This is Natasha, one of my closest friends."

"So I heard," Sam held out a hand. "How are you doing?"

"Very well indeed," Natasha took it, hanging on to his hand for a moment longer than was necessary.

That was Clint's cue to excuse himself and Bucky. He knew that look. And Natasha usually got what she wanted.

He linked his arm with Bucky's and patted it gently, "Okay now I've met your friends. Now on to the food."

"Do you ever think about anything else?" Bucky asked exasperatedly.

"Probably coffee."

"Oh my god."

-

To his surprise, Clint really enjoyed himself. It wasn't often that he interacted with this many people. He usually preferred to keep to himself. Nat didn't count. She sorta shoved her way into his life and he'd liked it so much, he'd kept her. Or she kept him, as she would say.

A tap on his arm brought him out of his thoughts and he smiled over his plate at Bucky. Bucky leaned over conspiratorially to whisper, "I don't think Sam knows what he's gotten himself into."

They looked across the room, to where Natasha was currently laughing and patting Sam's arm flirtatiously, even as they talked animatedly.

"I don't think he cares at this point. I know that slightly crazed and besotted look; most of the males that enter Natasha's vicinity eventually have that look."

"Not you," Bucky eyed him speculatively. "Why not?"

Clint sighed heavily. "Well I don't know if you've noticed, but I think I'm kinda gay."

"So you didn't just go out with me because I blurted your name out mid-conversation with Steve?"

"Actually yes I did," Clint pointed out. "My name had already come up but partly cause yeah I'm gay, and you wear a leather jacket really nicely. One had to get closer to those manly shoulders."

Bucky threw his head back in laughter and the sound was already becoming one of Clint's favourite things in the world. This was bad. He could not get attached. 

"You really say what you want to, don't you?" Bucky discreetly wiped a tear from under his eye. His left hand, Clint noticed, still had a leather glove on it, while the other was bare. Was it a fashion thing? Clint was distracted again by Bucky wondering out loud if they should save Sam. 

He shook his head. "It's too late. He's lost to us now."

Just then, they were startled by Steve and Peggy peering over the couch they were on. Peggy laughed softly. "Sorry for startling you gentlemen. Steve here was wondering how you guys met and was impatient enough that I couldn't stop him from coming over here to ask."

Bucky shifted, pulling Clint with him to one side so Steve and Peggy could take the other half of it. Peggy dropped unceremoniously into Steve's lap, who shifted to take her weight before leaning forward eagerly. "Tell me everything Bucky. I can't believe you didn't tell me about your fella before."

"Well, I'm a barista, a really good one by the way." Clint knocked Bucky's shoulder with his gently, mischievously. If he was going to be a fake-boyfriend, he might as well be the best one there is. "He stumbled into my workplace a couple of weeks back, lost as a baby sheep and in desperate need of my awesome coffee skills. Awkward as can be and asked me out before he even ordered his coffee."

It was the story they had agreed upon, not too far from the truth that it would be unbelievable. But Clint felt the story sink in, spreading a warmth in him that he couldn't explain away. He looked around at Bucky, into kind eyes and he turned away again. It was easier to focus on Steve's and Peggy's faces. "Couldn't get a proper word out of him until he had his caffeine. But he was persistent, and so I gave in, in the end."

"His coffee sealed the deal," Bucky added. "It's amazing, you have to try it some day."

"I'm sure we will," Peggy touched Steve's arm. "This one works late all the time, coffee is pretty much a necessity."

"You're a necessity."

"Stevie," Bucky groaned, making Clint and Peggy laugh.

They made small talk for a little while before Steve excused them apologetically. The hosts had to make their rounds and Clint was left with Bucky again.

"It's almost over," Bucky said sympathetically. "Thank you, for doing this by the way. It means a lot to me."

Clint waved a hand. "It's nothing, really. Your friends are really nice people." And they really were, but Clint had to constantly remind himself not to get too attached. This was not a long haul situation. It wouldn't do for him to lose his head.

"They really like you," Bucky's tone was part-amazement, part-reverence. "It's awesome."

Clint took another look around the place, at Steve and Peggy giving out hugs to everyone they came across, to Sam and Natasha, who were sitting closer than ever, to the general cheer and friendly atmosphere that permeated the entire place. 

"Yeah," he said in a small voice. "It really is."

And ignored the small twist in his gut that told him,  _too late, he was already in too deep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long-ish chapter, to make up for my sporadic updates. More about everyone and some universe building. Thanks for sticking with me! Comments and kudos? Let me know your thoughts.


	4. How They Fell A Little Bit In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not like they had a lot in common. Or did they?

Clint shoved his hands into his pockets, staring studiously at the clean floor of the elevator. Next to him, Bucky whistled softly under his breath, his hands likewise shoved into his pockets. Natasha had surreptitiously abandoned him and Clint wrinkled his nose at the thought. The last he'd saw of her was her tugging Sam out the door.  _Traitor_ , he thought semi-murderously. He couldn't believe she'd left him on his own after she came for moral support. 

Not that it was that much of a difficulty to get along with Bucky's friends to be honest.

The elevator chimed merrily at the ground floor and both of their heads snapped up. 

They started out at the same time before pausing. There was a brief moment of hesitation before they both started out again. Clint just had to laugh, they were adults for God's sake. Bucky smiled, before gesturing. "After you."

"Thank you."

Clint had started out of the building, turning to his left and bracing his body against the cold, before he looked around confusedly. Bucky was right there next to him, turning his collar up against the cold and walking right next to him.

"Aren't you going to drive home?"

Bucky shrugged. "It's not my car, it's Steve's, remember? I left my bike at home too." He stopped and turned indignantly. "Did you think I wouldn't offer you a ride home if I had the car? I'm offended."

The incredulous look on his face had Clint doubling over in laughter. "Did I malign your honour, sir?"

"Clint Barton! I am - wait, what's your middle name? Do you have one?" Clint choked out a strangled "Francis" between laughs before he had a second to think about why he was even offering this information freely and Bucky barrelled on. "Clint Francis Barton! I am shocked that you would think that of me! Offended! Distraught! I have run out of adjectives!"

The air Clint was pulling into his lungs felt dry and he ended up coughing at the end of his bout of laughter, hacking up his lungs in the middle of the street. Warm hands patted at his back and he eventually straightened up. Just like that, Clint wasn't cold anymore.

"You're a dork," he pointed at Bucky.

"Not usually. But then, you wouldn't know," Bucky said with a secretive smile. "I live in your direction by the way, which is why I look like I'm following you home, but I'm not."

If he was being honest with himself, Clint wouldn't have minded if Bucky had followed him home, up the stairs, into his apartment... he let his thoughts trail off. Humming, he looked up. "Nice night for a walk."

Clint was lying through his teeth. It really wasn't. The temperature was dropping, the wind was slowly picking up and there was an ominous clap of thunder sounding faintly in the distance. But Bucky grinned at him, nudging him with his shoulder. "Yeah, it is. Thanks for helping me out by the way. They really liked you."

"I'm a lovable guy. Most of the time."

"I wouldn't know."

"Jerk," Clint elbowed Bucky hard enough that he stumbled off the sidewalk laughing.

"You should tell me about yourself then. We're friends now, aren't we? Bonded through trauma."

"Whose trauma? Mine or yours? Because the way I see it, you just hung out all night with your friends. It's my trauma that takes precedence over yours."

"You liked them, and they liked you," Bucky repeated. "But if you won't tell me about yourself, I'm going to bore you the entire way home with my life story."

He wasn't kidding. By the time they reached Clint's building, he'd heard everything about Bucky's childhood, his friendship with Steve and how he believes that the government has a conspiracy to keep superheroes out of public knowledge.

"Well, this is me." Clint looked up at the building and back at Bucky. "Thanks for walking me back, kinda. You've been a great fake-boyfriend-for-a-night."

"I do have honour." They laughed and Bucky shuffled his feet a little. Turning his wrist quickly to look at the time, Bucky seemed to come to a decision. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and shoved it at Clint. "Put your number in."

"What?" Clint fumbled and nearly dropped it. Wouldn't that be the highlight of the day.

"We're friends, right? Friends get each other's numbers. And I'll need to contact you so we can grab that pizza I owe you."

"Right, right, sure," Clint punched his number in, hoping that this would be one of the times where he remembered it right. The phone changed hands again and Clint reached into his jacket pocket, "Hold on, let me get - my phone's dead."

The dismay with which Clint stared at his phone had Bucky chuckling. He lifted a gloved fist and punched Clint lightly in the shoulder.

"Hey!" Clint scrunched up his face.

"It's cool, I got your number. I'll see you around?" Bucky hesistated a little, then stuck out a hand.

Clint reached over and grabbed it slowly, giving it a good firm shake. "See you around, Bucky."

He watched as Bucky's figure continued down the block and crossed the street before going up to his place and falling face first onto his face without even taking his shoes off.

 

-

He should have taken his shoes off. They seemed to have gotten tighter overnight, or maybe his feet grew. Clint squinted, barely making out the patterns on his bedspread, as he fought with the laces of his boots. Finally taking one off, he heaved it across the room with a triumphant yell. It thudded off the wall and landed in his laundry basket. Eh, he shrugged. Fighting the other one off, Clint dragged his shirt over his head and stumbled out of bed to plug his phone in to charge. 

"Coffee," he slumbered out into the living room before proceeding to slip on something and rap his head hard against the wall. "Ow," he said pitifully. Clint raised a hand to poke at the affected area tentatively and recoiled almost immediately. No touching it then.

"Um, that's my shirt," Clint spun around at a voice that was most definitely not Natasha's. Sam raised a hand from where he was sitting at their kitchen counter, shirtless. "Good morning?"

Clint goggled for a moment, then muttered lowly to himself as he stalked over to her room and pounded on the door. "Nat! Can I speak with you for a minute?"

Natasha yanked open the door, pulling on a hoodie and scowling at him. "What do you want, Clint?"

Pushing into her room, he kicked the door shut behind him. "What were you thinking?! Have you lost your mind?"

"You watch yourself when you're talking to me, Barton," Natasha poked a well-manicured finger into his bare chest and he winced. Those were sharp. "You don't get to dictate who I see or what I do."

"When it's Sam, I do," he hissed. "Is it serious? Are you going to see him again?"

"What's it to you?" The fire was in her eyes now, and a small part of Clint's brain spoke up that if he didn't back down soon, they were going to go a round like they did back in college, and he'd probably be on his ass again.

Clint took a deep breath and tried to speak like a reasonable person, "Nat, he can't find out that Bucky and I were just having everyone on yesterday. Bucky will be upset."

"Oh," and just like that, the fire went out and it was replaced with apology and calm. "I'm sorry Clint, I didn't think. He won't hear it from me, I can assure you."

The throbbing in his head intensified and Clint pinched his nose bridge slowly. "Is it serious?"

Nat gave him a small smile, "It was just one night, Barton. I don't know where it's going." She did bite her lip and put an apologetic hand on his arm though, "I won't let him find out about you, Clint. You know I wouldn't, whether it was serious or not."

He knew she wouldn't, so he nodded and curled an arm around her neck, pulling her in for a quick hug. "I'm sorry. And I know."

They stood there for a little while before Clint just had to open his mouth, "So was he good?"

"Fuck off Barton!"

-

Clint slumped over the counter, playing with his phone as he took a moment to relax. The after dinner crowd had just eased and he was all but ready to fall asleep on his feet. He fiddled with his hearing aids, wondering how badly Natasha would hit him if he switched them off and pretended that they went on the fritz again. She would know, he thought darkly. She always knew.

Maybe making himself an expresso would help.

He straightened, with every intention of crawling to the coffee machine three steps away when his phone buzzed.

**[10:32pm] Hey, it's me.**

It was an unknown number and Clint's forehead creased. He seldom gave his number out to random people, so he assumed it was Bucky. He hoped, and then squashed that down as quickly as it rose. All thoughts about coffee forgotten, he quickly thumbed out a reply.

_[10:33pm] Adele?_

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, acting casual and hoping that Natasha didn't see that. The hard soles of his boots made contact with the counter as he kicked at it listlessly but then his phone buzzed again. Clint grabbed at it as it continued to buzz in succession.

**[10:37pm] Adele's song title is 'Hello".**

**[10:37pm] Why do I know that?**

**[10:38pm] It's Bucky by the way.**

Clint couldn't control his grin.

_[10:38pm] I know. I don't give my number to just anyone, y'know?_

_[10:39pm] Also I have big news that I bet you don't know about yet._

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, there was a thought about how Natasha might kill him for spilling things that she might not want others to know, but heck, she already threatens to kill him on a daily basis when he leaves pizza out in the living room. What's one more threat gonna do?

**[10:42pm] On a juicy level scale of 1 to 10, how juicy is it?**

_[10:43pm] It's Juicy Couture._

**[10:43pm] Spill.**

Because he feared for his life, Clint looked up to make sure that Natasha was busy clearing tables and chatting up customers and that there were no imminent orders before he ducked into the break room. He considered the implications for a moment before locking the door and typing furiously.

_[10:48pm] I woke up this morning and guess who was in my living room shirtless. Sam!_

_[10:48pm] I live with Natasha, sorry I should have said that first, as context._

_[10:49pm] I did not invite Sam up to my apartment to be shirtless._

His phone remained silent. Clint panicked. Maybe it wasn't as humorous as he thought. He never was good at dealing with people much. Or maybe Bucky himself was worried if their secret would get exposed.

He drummed his fingers a little on the table for a little while more, before unlocking the door and returning to man the counter. It was between a hazelnut frappucino (ick) and a moccachino that his phone buzzed again. The steamed milk that splashed across the back of his hand was truly an accident, he told himself, he was not excited over a single text. Get it together Barton.

**[11:01pm] Holy shit. Is it serious?**

**[11:01pm] Sorry about that by the way. My dog was making a mess and I had to go grab him.**

_[11:02pm] That's what I said! Nat promised she wouldn't tell him though, so you don't have to worry about that. If you were, I mean._

**[11:05pm] Nah it's okay. I trust her.**

**[11:06pm] Also because I fully believe that she will skin me alive if I said anything to the contrary.**

_[11:08pm] It's the eyes, isn't it? She looks right through you._

**[11:10pm] Exactly! And you live with her.**

_[11:10pm] She's useful for scaring the burglars away._

**[11:13pm] I'm telling her you said that.**

_[11:14pm] She said it herself._

**[11:17pm] If ever you disappear one day, I'll point the police to your roommate.**

_[11:20pm] I appreciate the thought, but she'd probably make your body disappear too._

Before he knew it, shift was over and he was locking up with Natasha. She jammed his beanie over his head as they turned to walk back to their building and he leaned heavily on her, moaning about his tired feet. The elbow in his gut was almost worth it as Clint watched her roll her eyes.

"You didn't seem so tired when you were replying whoever was texting you like they were going out of fashion in an hour."

Clint opened his mouth to retort but Natasha pointed a well-manicured nail at him. "Consider your options, and then be quiet." He shut his mouth again; he never did well in arguments with her.

The wounded look on his face made her laugh and she hooked an arm through his. "I know it was Bucky."

"How did you - "

"You've had a sappy smile on your ridiculous face the entire last hour of shift. I know infatuation when I see it, and I've seen it on you before."

"I don't - "

"Clint," she said slowly, stopping in the middle of the street. "It's okay."

The two words carried more history and meaning than Clint was willing to explore in the middle of the night on a deserted street. He shrugged, pulling Natasha to start walking again.

"I didn't mean to pry."

"I know." Clint tipped his head back and sighed. "We're getting dinner this weekend."

"That's great."

"Is it?"

"It is, because you like him," Natasha patted his shoulder gently. "I know you know, that you like him. Even if it is just a little bit."

The breath Clint was drawing in whooshed out in another long sigh and Natasha touched his shoulder again, leaned her head against it. And that small warm comfort allowed him to say it.

"I know. I'm fucked."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so late, I am a terrible person. I would love comments and kudos? /heart eyes


End file.
